


A Pile of Pillows

by Vagabond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Nesting, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings, coming home, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: “I missed you,” Crowley murmured, brushing their noses together in a gentle nuzzle. “And I see you clearly missed me.” He leaned back to take in the blush that spread across Aziraphale’s face.“You’re myhusband,” Aziraphale replied cattily, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “You weregone.”“I’m yourmate,” Crowley pointed out with a soft grin as he kissed Aziraphale’s nose and then each of his cheeks. “And you made me a nest to come home to.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 946
Collections: Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Our Own Side





	A Pile of Pillows

**Author's Note:**

> Have some fluff. I woke up with a need. 
> 
> All my love to [Kazeetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazeetie/pseuds/Kazeetie) for beta'ing for me AND giving me the title.

Rain politely avoided Crowley’s windshield as he sped through country lanes, eager to be home. He had spent a long weekend in London checking on his flat, the bookshop, and some business dealings of his own. Aziraphale had been invited, but the angel had insisted he stay at their little cottage in South Downs because he had some organizing to do and a few other chores. 

Crowley knew it likely had more to do with their aging neighbor than anything else, but he hadn’t pressed the issue. If it made Aziraphale better to be close by in case Margaret needed a bit of angelic intervention who was he to fuss. At least, who was he to fuss out loud, because he’d been quite annoyed by the idea of Margaret spending time with his angel while he had to dig through mail at his flat alone. 

He dwelled on it, as he was inclined to do, for most of the weekend as he went through his list and he was grateful when Sunday rolled around and he could return home with a clear conscience. It helped that the weather was miserable, leaving him with the deep desire to sit in front of the fireplace with his head in Aziraphale’s lap while he played with his hair. 

The familiar curves of the road and the sound of the rain drumming on the Bently soothed him as he sped faster than should be physically possible toward home. Perhaps he’d bake scones for the angel the old fashioned way. There were some blueberries in the freezer from when they’d gone picking in the summer that would be perfect for them. 

He pulled up into the driveway and nearly leaped out of the car, his heart thrumming with excitement. They’d hardly spent a day away from each other since the world didn’t end, and the weekend had been torture for him. He wondered if Aziraphale felt the same, or if the angel had been lost in his books and tea and hadn’t noticed much of a difference. 

Crowley walked through the door with long strides, brushing the rain off of his jacket with a miracle as he toed off his boots and hung his things on the coat rack just inside the door. On socked feet he made his way into the sitting room to find the fireplace cold and the couch vacant. 

“Angel?” He called out into the quiet space, noting the scent of cinnamon and cocoa on the air. Aziraphale had discovered oil diffusers somewhat recently and had become obsessed, much to Crowley’s chagrin. He’d invented them to be frustrating - always running out too quickly, never quite levelling off to the right amount of scent - but Aziraphale had likely used a little bit of his angelic charm to make them work like humans always assumed they would. 

It was annoying. But he had to admit, the cottage smelled lovely. “Aziraphale?” He called out as he poked his head into the kitchen and found it dark and empty, just like the living room. Next he checked the library and found it in the same state. He swallowed down the edge of worry that bubbled up inside of him, telling off the invasive thoughts in his mind that told him perhaps Aziraphale had been taken, maybe Heaven or Hell had finally caught up with them, that Aziraphale had been killed. 

He all but ran to the bedroom, sliding on the hardwood floors in his socks as he pushed open the door and breathed out a sigh of relief. There was a familiar angel-shaped lump on the bed, buried in and surrounded by blankets that he appeared to have taken from all over the cottage and piled on the bed. Crowley recognized the throw pillows from the couch in the living room mixed into the mess on the bed, and didn’t miss the arm of one of his dirty shirts poking out from the midst of it. 

In the middle of it all, clearly nesting, was Aziraphale, wings out and fluffed up around him which told Crowley he was likely sleeping. As he approached, he could finally see Aziraphale’s face. The angel had fallen asleep with it pressed to the pages of the book, one of Crowley’s jackets held in his arms like a stuffy. 

Apparently he’d not been the only one who was impacted by their separation. 

Crowley sat gently on the bed and leaned over to run his fingers carefully through Aziraphale’s ruffled feathers. “Angel,” he coaxed, delicately moving his wing so he could lean in and brush his curls out of his face. “Aziraphale, wake up.” 

“Mmph?” Aziraphale shied away from his touch and grumbled something that Crowley didn’t catch. He leaned in and kissed one of Aziraphale’s rosy cheeks. “Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbled, blue eyes fluttering open as a beautifully unguarded smile took over his face. “You’re back.” 

“Mmhm,” Crowley leaned down and kissed his smile. Aziraphale shifted so he could reach up and wind his arms around Crowley’s neck, pulling him down closer as he deepened the kiss. Crowley’s tongue teased against his lower lip and Aziraphale opened to him, their tongues stroking together. Crowley reached up, carding his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls as one of his snowy white wings came around him, shielding them both from the world. 

He panted against Aziraphale’s mouth as he listened to the rain pattering against the window. “I missed you,” Crowley murmured, brushing their noses together in a gentle nuzzle. “And I see you clearly missed me.” He leaned back to take in the blush that spread across Aziraphale’s face. 

“You’re my _ husband_,” Aziraphale replied cattily, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “You were _ gone_.” 

“I’m your _ mate_,” Crowley pointed out with a soft grin as he kissed Aziraphale’s nose and then each of his cheeks. “And you made me a nest to come home to.” 

“Old habits…” Aziraphale huffed and pulled Crowley close, burying his face in the curve of his neck. Crowley shifted until he could press himself up against Aziraphale, humming when Aziraphale hugged him closer. 

“I like it,” Crowley said quietly. “You did quite a nice job. It smells like us.” 

“I had to dig through your laundry. When did you stop miracling your clothes?” 

“Mm, probably the first time I found one of my jackets tucked under the pillows,” Crowley answered as they snuggled together on the bed. They shifted onto their sides as Aziraphale nestled closer and it gave Crowley a chance to reach out and run his fingers affectionately through the angel’s feathers. They were soft and well groomed thanks to Crowley’s diligence, no more dust and broken feathers. 

“_Oh_,” Aziraphale looked at him with a fondness that made his heart flip over in his chest. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Crowley grumbled and it was his turn to tuck his face away in Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“My dear, sweet demon,” Aziraphale murmured into his ear, brushing his lips against it. 

“Shut up, I’m not _ sweet_.” He huffed, nosing beneath the collar of Aziraphale’s shirt to bite gently at his shoulder. 

“You’re right, you’re an absolute terror,” Aziraphale replied indulgently as he ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “The most frightening, wily demon I’ve ever met.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes and mouthed at the spot he’d bitten, tongue laving over it. Aziraphale curled his fingers in Crowley’s hair and tugged gently. He drew him up into another kiss. 

“Let me preen your wings,” Crowley murmured as he brushed a kiss to the corner of Aziraphale’s mouth. 

“They’re quite lovely as they are,” Aziraphale pointed out and Crowley huffed. 

“I still enjoy fussing at them,” he admitted. 

“Oh, well, then please.” Aziraphale smiled beautifully at him and Crowley kissed him once more before untangling them. He shifted into a sitting position, legs crossed, then pulled Aziraphale until he was on his back and half draped over his lap. Aziraphale nestled his head into Crowley’s lap. His wings, at least the bulk of them, were reachable like this. Crowley started by ruffling through Aziraphale’s coverts, eyes on his face as the angel’s eyes fluttered shut. 

He loved this, Aziraphale pliant and comfortable in his lap. Demons never did this sort of thing with each other. It was too vulnerable a position and even a demon on the best terms with another would probably take it as an opportunity to play a hurtful prank. Crowley stroked his fingers through Aziraphale’s soft feathers and tried to ignore the pride welling up in his chest that Aziraphale was _ his _ and trusted him so completely. 

Aziraphale made a content little noise and turned his head to press a kiss to the inside of Crowley’s clothed thigh before settling back and relaxing. He could probably sense the love coming off of him in waves and that made Crowley all the more gentle, leaning forward to brush his fingers over Aziraphale’s secondaries. He ruffled them up, mussed them, and then worked to settle them back into place. Aziraphale shivered and hummed, his wing twitching as feathers fell back to their rightful places. 

Done ruffling and straightening, Crowley settled in to massage. He ran firm fingers up to the first joint and pressed at it, enjoying the sounds Aziraphale made. The limbs were strong and warm under his touch and as he worked, Crowley imagined what they looked like in flight, carrying Aziraphale on air currents through the sky. 

In the ether, his own wings twitched with the memory of flying. 

“We should go flying sometime,” Crowley murmured as he finished one wing and moved to the other, Aziraphale completely lax in his lap. 

“Mm.” Aziraphale replied. Crowley waited for more of a response and when it didn’t come, laughed. 

“We could wait until the next full moon and go out at night, take a dive off the cliffs nearby and fly over the sea.” Crowley could tell him more about the stars he had helped create and they could dance among them on the air. Then Crowley could show off, his wings sleeker and more agile than Aziraphale’s, once he took to the air. He could twist and twirl and show off, entice Aziraphale to join him with his slower turns, then they could tumble to the sand and kiss until the tide came in. 

He was broken out from his reverie when he glanced down and realized Aziraphale’s blue eyes were open and sparkling with mirth, as if he could read Crowley’s thoughts. 

“The love is absolutely pouring off of you,” Aziraphale said as he reached up to take one of Crowley’s hands away from his wings, bringing it to his lips to kiss each of his knuckles and then each of his fingertips in kind. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Flying with you, kissing you.” Crowley shrugged and glanced away, cheeks no doubt turning red. His corporation enjoyed betraying him. 

“Kissing while flying would be a very interesting challenge,” Aziraphale conceded and Crowley shook his head. 

“No, angel, in the sand.” 

“The sand?” Aziraphale tilted his head curiously. 

“We’d fly, and then I’d kiss you in the sand,” Crowley explained. 

“Sounds a bit messy, dear.” 

“Yes but it is _ romantic_,” Crowley insisted with a huff. 

“Hm.” Aziraphale seemed to consider this before he shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure how getting sand everywhere is romantic.” 

“Because I’d be kissing you in it!” 

Aziraphale pressed a soothing kiss to his palm. “Alright, my love. For you, I’d lay in the sand and let you kiss me but I’d have to miracle it all off afterward. That nonsense gets _ everywhere_.” 

“You’ve ruined it,” Crowley grumbled, not actually upset but enjoying the way Aziraphale smiled at his grumbles. “I’m trying to engage in romantic overtures to win you over and you’re ruining it.” 

“You’ve already won me over,” Aziraphale reminded him, bringing the hand he’d been kissing down to rest on his chest, over his heart. “This belongs to you. Even if you think kissing in the sand is romantic.” 

“Ugh.” Crowley curled his fingers and purposely wrinkled Aziraphale’s shirt. It was the angel’s turn to huff. 

“Now, now, no need for that.” He guided Crowley’s hand away from his shirt and back into his feathers. “Wrinkle these all you’d like, though.” 

“Is that your way of telling me you want more?” Crowley asked. 

“I didn’t think I was being subtle, dear,” Aziraphale replied. 

“So demanding,” Crowley murmured as he once more began ruffling up Aziraphale’s feathers, enjoying the way Aziraphale wiggled in his lap. 

“Very. You are, after all, the one who left me alone all weekend.” Aziraphale gave him a pointed look. 

“You could have come,” Crowley sighed. “I believe you said you had things to fuss about with here.” 

“Yes, well…” Aziraphale glanced away with a tiny frown. “I didn’t realize quite how much I’d miss you.” 

“Angel,” Crowley brought his fingers away from his wings so he could brush his knuckles against Aziraphale’s cheek. Finally, Aziraphale looked back up at him. 

“I love you very dearly,” Aziraphale admitted, as he had time and time again. He had told Crowley once he was making up for all the years he hadn’t said it and Crowley hadn’t grown tired of the words yet. 

“And I love you,” Crowley replied. “Now get up here and kiss me, hm?” 

“Aren’t you a snake? You’re rather flexible. You ought to bend down and kiss me,” Aziraphale answered, the smile returning. 

“I’m _ old _ Aziraphale,” he huffed. “I suppose if you don’t want a kiss…” 

That was enough to get Aziraphale scrambling up, happily dumping his whole body into Crowley’s lap so he could pull him in for a kiss. Crowley tipped Aziraphale backward onto the bed, their bodies pressed together again, and the bed creaked beneath them as the rain continued to patter peacefully against the window.   


**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Twitter]() and [Tumblr]()!
> 
> Got short fic prompts you'd like to see written? Drop them in the comments or drop me an ask/mention on social media!


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